


play me a song, o wand'ring dancer boy

by SandyRoses



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Harpist Joshua, Harps, Jeonghan is tired, Joshua likes the rain, Joshua plays music and Seungcheol is whipped, Lord In Waiting Jeonghan, M/M, Music, Old Fashioned Language, Prince Seungcheol, but he's still a good friend, idk - Freeform, soft ig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-29 22:09:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21417460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandyRoses/pseuds/SandyRoses
Summary: "play me a song, o wand'ring dancer boy, that our days together may be filled with light and love."OrPrince Seungcheol stumbles upon a pretty harp player in the town square, and he simply can't help himself from taking time to listen to that lovely voice.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Hong Jisoo | Joshua
Comments: 16
Kudos: 69





	play me a song, o wand'ring dancer boy

**Author's Note:**

> OK BIG EDIT:  
It has come to my knowledge that the term "gypsy" can be taken as an offensive term for certain groups of people. I did not know this, but now that I do, I have decided to take out the word from this story, and any other story I might find it in. I know this might confuse some people and I'm sorry, but I don't want to cause any harm, and I offer my sincerest apologies to anyone I might have offended or hurt. I know better now, and I will not make this mistake in the future. Thank you for understanding.
> 
> I went to Canada a while ago and I saw a harper playing near the water and I just went !!!! Joshua playing the harp for Seungcheol !!!! that is a good idea !!!! and so this was born I hope u enjoy these CheolSoo crumbs my children

“Your highness, if we could get a move on, that would be great.”

“Yes, sure, ok, I’ll be right there.” Seungcheol was lying. He was far too busy paying attention to the way a couple waterfowl floated by in the canal nearby to listen to what Jeonghan had to say, even if the man was his lord-in-waiting and practically his brother from another mother.

“Seungcheol. C’mon.” He finally tore his eyes away at a tug on his sleeve and the use of his name instead of his title. If he was being honest, he hated it when people insisted on calling him all that royal nonsense; he tolerated Jeonghan doing it because he knew the other man was always being heavily sarcastic. 

“You’re unusually floaty today,” Jeonghan commented idly, giving him a raised eyebrow, and Seungcheol shrugged.

“You know I’m not allowed out of the castle that often, so...might as well take things in when I have the chance.” Jeonghan nodded to that, glancing at the sun’s position in the sky.

“I suppose you’re right. But we do have about half an hour until we need to go back, so you can explore if you want,” he offered, and Seungcheol smiled, latching onto Jeonghan’s arm and dragging him towards the village square.

“We should have a day to ourselves sometime soon, when we can just do whatever we wish,” he sighed, thinking wistfully of his childhood, when he had been younger, freer, less restricted by the weight of his kingdom. But alas, that was not how things were, so he settled for the fleeting moments of free time he could get between classes.

“Oh? Is there an event going on today? I was not aware,” Seungcheol murmured, slowing to a stop as he spotted a crowd in the square. He knew no one would notice him, dressed in simple clothing and with a hood drawn over his face, but he stayed at the fringes of the crowd anyway, trying to peek through.

“I’m not sure, Seungcheol, perhaps it is some kind of trading pit. They do those often, don’t they?” Jeonghan suggested, but Seungcheol frowned.

“I don’t hear them shouting the prices. In fact, all I can hear is-” Music. He could hear music. He’d wiggled his way just a bit closer, and he could hear a beautiful melody plucked out on some stringed instrument, floating pleasantly through the air like a bird’s wings.

And the voice that accompanied it? Even more lovely, like ribbons of light had woven themselves into song, and Seungcheol was not exaggerating when he thought that surely an angel must have come down to bless the people with its voice.

“Oh,” he breathed, a touch stunned. Jeonghan hummed curiously, standing on his toes to try and peer over the crowd.

“On second thought, I did hear that a small band of travelers, or wandering entertainers had come into town,” he corrected himself, and Seungcheol blinked at him. Travelers? Entertainers? As in the wandering people who played their songs for others for no more than a wish to bring smiles to others? How strange. And exciting.

“I wish I could see who is singing. They have a most ethereal voice,” Seungcheol sighed, finding no way to push through the thick crowd. “May we stay and listen?”

“Of course, but only for half an hour,” Jeonghan warned, though he looked like he agreed with Seungcheol’s words. 

Half an hour didn’t seem like it would ever be enough to Seungcheol, who grew steadily more entranced with the lovely voice threading through his ears. It reminded him of a mythical siren, who lured sailors out to their doom with their beautiful song. Seungcheol began to see why the sailors always willingly went to their deaths; he would follow that voice wherever it went.

And then, before it seemed possible, Jeonghan was tapping his shoulder, gently tugging him away from the crowd.

“Come, Seungcheol, we must go. I will see if I can arrange a date for you to come and listen a little longer,” he hummed soothingly, and the prospect of coming back to listen to that lovely voice was the only thing that pushed Seungcheol to follow his lord-in-waiting back to the castle, where he spent all of his evening lessons staring out the windows, wondering just who possessed such a lovely voice.

* * *

A few days later and Seungcheol was allowed a few hour’s free time by his father, and eagerly he tugged Jeonghan along to the village square, hoping against hope that the lovely-voiced singer would still be there. 

To his immense delight, he heard the strains of beautiful singing and what sounded like harp music floating through the air, and the crowd had thinned considerably, allowing him and Jeonghan to slip right up to the front to finally see what was going on.

His eyes widened at the sight. Sitting on the steps leading up to the large, flat pedestal in the center of the square, there was another man resting there, a large harp between his legs, and his physical beauty was rivaled only by that of his voice. Seungcheol fell still, staring as long, deft fingers plucked a jaunty folk tune out on the harp, slightly jarring for such an elegant instrument but nonetheless pleasing, with a playful note in the singer’s voice to accompany it.

He sang of rolling sand dunes and shimmering heat, things Seungcheol had never seen much in his seaside village, and, rather entranced, he crept as close as he dared, trying to catch a closer look. The man sang with his eyes closed, fingers dancing over the strings of the harp without effort, and Seungcheol couldn’t rip his eyes away. He barely noticed Jeonghan’s amused laughter behind him.

And when the song ended, he clapped along with the people in the square, eyes wide and lips gaping slightly in awe. The man smiled a small but lovely smile, gaze sweeping the crowd, nodding acknowledgement to their praise. He wore clothing Seungcheol had never seen before, floaty and a bright green-blue accented with yellow, and gold glinted in his hair and ears. He truly looked like an angel, or some kind of wandering music spirit. Seungcheol was truly stunned.

“My my, it looks like his highness has become quite smitten for one pretty desert-born stranger,” Jeonghan chuckled into his ear, and Seungcheol batted randomly behind him, satisfied with the faint wheeze he heard from his snarky lord-in-waiting.

“Is it wrong to be in awe? I have never heard anyone play so beautifully, nor sing so well,” he said defensively, and Jeonghan held up his hands in defeat, though his smirk did not leave his lips. Seungcheol glared at him for a moment longer before turning to look back at the singer, who had paused to fiddle with the pegs on his harp, plucking a few aimless notes before settling. Seungcheol then noticed that he wore no shoes, and his well-tanned midsection was bare, only his upper chest covered. Again, it was something he had never seen, and it made him incredibly curious. 

But the sounds of the harp being played again made his other thoughts drift away, and once again he found himself entranced by the gorgeous music reaching his ears. It was a slower song, in a language Seungcheol didn’t know, almost hopefully mecanholic as though he were looking up at a shooting star in the night sky.

His eyes widened when the singer’s gaze found his own, somehow singling him out among the crowd. A small, clever smile was flashed his way and he moved his gaze down, oddly flustered from just a simple look.

When the song came to an end, he poked Jeonghan’s arm insistently.

“Give me my purse. His song was lovely,” he huffed, and, raising an eyebrow but not protesting, Jeonghan pulled a small leather bag out of his pocket. Seungcheol took it, shaking five gold coins out into his palm. Jeonghan’s eyes went wider, but again, he kept his mouth shut.

Feeling bold, Seungcheol went right up to the foot of the singer, where a small, woven basket held a few bronze coins, two silver. He tossed the five gold coins in, and something akin to satisfaction fluttered in Seungcheol’s chest at the soft gasp the singer let out.

“You play quite beautifully,” he murmured honestly, daring to look up, “and you sing equally as well.” The singer’s eyes were wide, but then they melted into a smile, warm and grateful.

“Thank you, kind one. I will play you a song on the morrow if you’d like?” He ran a hand up the strings of his harp, eliciting a lovely chord, and Seungcheol smiled. His voice was slightly accented, soft and smooth and almost like liquid.

“I would indeed enjoy that. When I have time I will most definitely come back,” he assured, and the singer’s smile sharpened with happiness.

“Then I will not disappoint.” He winked once, and Seungcheol quickly hurried back to Jeonghan, biting the inside of his cheek. How strange it was, for him to get all tongue-tied in front of a simple wandering singer. He ignored Jeonghan snickering at him the whole walk home.

But he did not forget those moments of eye contact, replaying them in his mind’s eye long after Jeonghan had pulled him back to the castle for lunch.

* * *

From then on, whenever he had time, he hurried down to the village square and listened to the pretty harper sing and play, and once, to Seungcheol’s surprise and delight, someone else came to play the harp, and Seungcheol found out that the pretty boy could dance too, just as well as he sang and played, light-footed and graceful, joy emanating from his being. Seungcheol kind of wanted to dance with him, but all he knew was the stiff, slow-moving waltzes his mother had taught him, which were...boring, in his opinion. The light leaps and twirls the beautiful dancer boy performed seemed much more fun.

However, he never got the singer’s name. He’d worked up the courage to ask only once, and the dancer boy had grinned at him, pearly white teeth and sharp canines. “I am me,” had been his only response, and Seungcheol supposed he just had to accept that. Besides, if he could keep listening to that beautiful voice, he didn’t mind it.

Then, one day, in the evening when the sun was casting rose-gold shadows over the sky, and Seungcheol had been sitting on the steps listening to the beautiful singer play, the song came to an end and no more came after it, which was slightly strange to Seungcheol. He glanced up to check, and he saw the pretty man bowing to the crowd and collecting his earnings for the day, which Seungcheol had once again contributed generously to.

The coins disappeared into a small bag slung around the singer’s slender waist, and his harp was laid down in a sturdy-looking case for the night. Having never seen the singer pack up and leave before, he got curious.

“No more songs for the night?” he asked, a playful smile on his face. The harper smiles back at him.

“Not for tonight, I’m afraid,” he said apologetically, hefting up the case with little effort. “But I will be back tomorrow, and I am sure you will be as well.” To that, Seungcheol flushed, since he _ had _ been sneaking away as frequently as possible, almost daily, to listen to him sing, sometimes bringing Jeonghan with him, sometimes not.

“...Do you need help with that case? It seems heavy,” Seungcheol finally offered, reluctant to part from the pretty harper.

“If you so insist, I suppose I would not mind being in your company for a little while longer,” the other man chuckled, letting him hold the case. It was heavy, but not as much as Seungcheol expected, and he shifted it into his arms to hold it better.

“Thank you,” the harper added, and Seungcheol smiled, perhaps a touch more shyly.

“It is the least I can do when you play such lovely songs,” he murmured, being perfectly honest. It was the pretty man’s turn to flush shyly, and they fell into silent. The harper’s bare feet made no noise on the cobbled steps, and a question rose to Seungcheol’s mind.

“Forgive me if this is a sensitive subject, but...are you not from here? I have heard many people call you a trader, or a wandering entertainer.” He was merely curious, head half-tilted, but the boy laughed, enough to make him look away in shame.

“No, no, do not be embarrassed. I suppose I do look like one, do I not?” He glanced down at his bright, floaty, slightly sheer clothing, gold ornaments pierced through his ears in several places and circled around his neck. “No, I am not either of those, I assure you, though you are not the first to ask. I am not from here, I confess, but my family has settled where there is water, for my mother’s lungs. It didn’t do her any good to stay in a place where it was too hot,” he explained, and Seungcheol nodded slowly.

“Where do you fare from?” he asked without thinking, but the harper just smiled.

“Ah, somewhere where the sand on the beach blankets the land, and where water is more valuable than these pretty gold coins.” He flicked one up from the purse on his waist, rolling it over his knuckles, and Seungcheol hummed curiously, nearly running into a barrel in his absentmindedness.

“Do you like it here?” he asked next. Their seaside town was pleasant, mild-weathered all year and with no particularly nasty things to worry about except the occasional storm that rolled in during the spring. In fact, they’d been overdue for a storm for a while now, and the clouds that loomed overhead seemed promising.

“I do,” the harper said simply, “though sometimes I find nights cold. I’m...unused to the sun not beating down on my skin. But it is...refreshing, in a way.” He gave an aimless shrug and Seungcheol nodded. They fell into silence again, but it wasn’t tense.

“...I live right there,” the harper finally said, pointing to a tiny little house that was more of a hut than a proper residence, and Seungcheol blinked.

“O-of course. Thank you for letting me walk with you,” he said quickly, handing over his harp, and the pretty man smiled one of his soft, charming smiles.

“Thank you for carrying my harp for me,” he chuckled, and Seungcheol laughed, his heart doing something funny in his chest for a few moments. He decided not to think too far into it. “Will you see me play tomorrow?”

“If time and weather permit, then of course,” Seungcheol assured quickly, cheeks heating up at the bright smile the harper gave him. “And- and may I ask one more question?”

“You just did.”

“...”

“...Yes, yes you can.”

“...What is your name?” At his question, the pretty singer smiled, but it was a different smile, more clever, more knowing, more mysterious.

“Jisoo. My name is Jisoo.”

* * *

“You’ve been absolutely bolting every time we tell you you can go out on your own, dear, do tell, wherever are you going that has so easily stolen your attention?” He sighed at his mother’s curious, slightly exasperated tone, gently batting her away from where she was trying to pin an ostentatious deer pin to his collar.

“There is a harper in the square, who plays the most lovely songs and sings with the most lovely voice. I admit he has me quite entranced,” he huffed, layering on the sarcasm to his honesty. His mother shot him a look.

“Well, I do hope he isn’t playing today. The rain has come even earlier than we thought, and there is certainly a storm rolling in-” As if to cement her words, a booming clap of thunder rang throughout the room, shaking the tea in the cups on the table nearby. Seungcheol shivered at the sound, peering out into the dismal grey. It seemed highly unlikely that Jisoo would bring his harp to play, but something in Seungcheol told himself otherwise.

So, like any other day, when he had maybe an hour or two's worth of time to himself, he grabbed Jeonghan and a large umbrella and set off into the square, ignoring his lord-in-waiting’s muttered complaints about the rain and how it would ruin his long, auburn hair.

“Seungcheol, I really don’t think he would play in this horrid weather,” Jeonghan huffed, but Seungcheol was not deterred. “Cheol, seriously, do you honestly think you’re going to hear music on a day like today-”

And then, as if the world was playing some kind of petty joke on Jeonghan, Seungcheol perked up at the strains of harp music floating through the thunks and pitter-patter of the heavy rain, the faintest melody as though whispered from far away. When played with the rain, the music sounded even better, and the singing, dear lord, Jisoo’s singing sounded lovely, joyful, so full of happy emotions for such a foul day.

Immediately, Seungcheol tugged Jeonghan forward until he could peer through the misty rain to see Jisoo’s face, and his own lit up into a smile to see the harper sitting on the steps, thoroughly soaked but seemingly delighted about it, a bright grin on his face as he sang.

“...I don’t get how he can smile in this weather,” Jeonghan muttered, but Seungcheol just slapped his stomach lightly, eyes still stuck on Jisoo and how...how _ happy _ he seemed. Jeonghan sighed. “Would you like to go closer, my lord?” he asked sarcastically, but Seungcheol had already stolen the umbrella and was walking in Jisoo’s direction, leaving his lord-in-waiting to screech indignantly for a moment before running to catch up and hide himself beneath the umbrella.

“Jisoo!” he called, and the pretty harper didn’t falter in his singing as he looked over; in fact his song only seemed to get brighter, like a rainbow after a hurricane. He looked...beautiful, soaked to the skin and surrounded by dreary rain but beautiful. Seungcheol did his best not to look at the way Jisoo’s dark blue clothing stuck right to his skin.

When the cheerful song finally came to an end, Jisoo looked up at him curiously, head tilted.

“Seungcheol? I didn’t think you would come in this weather.”

“Call it a hunch. And I didn’t think you would play in this weather. There is a storm rolling in; why- why are you sitting out where you could get a cold?” He couldn’t stop the concern from creeping into his voice, and he ignored Jeonghan’s snort behind him.

“Where I come from, heavy rain, or any rain at all, really, is a cause for great celebration. I don’t see why I should be any different here,” he shrugged, shaking some water off of his bronze-colored skin, and then out of his hair aggressively like a wet dog. Seungcheol found the sight weirdly endearing and smiled a bit, though he kind of wanted to get Jisoo warm and dry so he didn’t get sick.

“Your playing was lovely,” Jeonghan commented, surprising Seungcheol a bit, but he nodded agreement. Jisoo blinked at Jeonghan, looking him up and down curiously.

“You ask me many questions, kind one, so may I request a question of my own?” Jisoo blinked at him, and Seungcheol nodded quickly, gesturing for him to continue. “Might you be prince Seungcheol, heir to this kingdom?”

Seungcheol blinked. He’d avoided giving his name, for fear of scaring the pretty harper away, but it looked like it hadn’t worked forever.

“I am,” he said hesitantly, figuring honesty would be his friend. His stomach had set itself into unpleasant knots, and the rain didn’t help his growing feeling of foreboding, nor did Jisoo’s long silence.

Then Jisoo nodded slowly, looking Jeonghan up and down again. “Interesting. Who might you be, if I may ask?”

“Yoon Jeonghan. Seungcheol’s advisor.” They nodded politely to each other, but the tight feeling in Seungcheol’s chest wasn’t settled. Was Jisoo annoyed? He couldn’t tell; through the rain the harper’s pretty face was inscrutable. 

Then Jisoo looked at Seungcheol, who tensed even more, if possible. “Can I ask another question?”

“You just did,” he mumbled, parroting Jisoo’s words from the day before. At that, Jisoo smiled, face softening and relaxing. “B-but yes, go ahead.”

“Have you ever played in the rain, Seungcheol?” Just his name. No titles, nothing over-the-top. It was as refreshing as the rain misting on his faintly-flushed cheeks.

“No, I have not,” he admitted, a bit sheepishly. He was not prepared for the way Jisoo’s smile sharpened, for the way his face lit up.

“Then, your highness, you haven’t _ lived_!” he cried delightedly, and Seungcheol yelped as he was forcefully tugged from beneath the umbrella’s cover and out into the cool rain, Jisoo’s hands in his. Seungcheol registered the title, but it was an endearment instead of an obligation, something fond that made Seungcheol’s cheeks go redder. 

“Have you never felt the pleasure of letting the rain touch your face? You have lived a sad, sad life, my friend,” Jisoo giggled, twirling him around playfully, laughing at his stumbling, awkward steps as Jeonghan merely watched from under the umbrella, a warm, knowing smile on his face.

“I- I have never had anyone to play in the rain with, but now there is you,” Seungcheol countered, and Jisoo’s smile, if possible, widened, his joy palpable. In the pouring rain, thunder and lightning rumbling and flashing above them, he looked lovely.

“I have always loved the rain, always loved the storms. They’re signs of good fortune and prosperity to my people, and it is said that those who dance in the rain are blessed with a life of longevity,” Jisoo sighed happily, closing his eyes, lifting his arms, and letting the rain fall on him. Bare-footed, hair soaked, and clothes sticking to his skin, Seungcheol still thought he was absolutely lovely. “I suppose I will see more of them, now that I am here, which is nice. I love the sound of thunder.”

“St-stay with me,” Seungcheol asked suddenly, breathless and too busy staring to even filter what he had just said. Jisoo gave him a confused smile.

“I assure you, I am not going anywhere, highness,” he began, but Seungcheol shook his head.

“I meant I- I meant in the castle. Stay with me. I can- I can give you whatever you wish,” he rambled, cheeks flushing bright red. What he had just asked must have sounded so insensitive, so sudden, and he looked down in shame, feeling Jeonghan’s raised eyebrow on his back.

“Why?” Jisoo’s voice wasn’t mad, not all at, merely curious, maybe a bit suspicious. Seungcheol scuffed his foot in a puddle awkwardly, regret filling his chest.

“I- well, I- I like you, and you’re very interesting, and I don’t have many friends in the castle, save for Jeonghan, though that friendship came about more by necessity than natural companionship.” He added the last part with a touch of dryness, shooting his endearingly sarcastic lord-in-waiting a look over his shoulder.

“You like me?” That was _ not _ the part Seungcheol had intended him to focus on.

“Yyyes?” he answered hesitantly, fiddling with the overly-flashy deer pin his mother had somehow managed to stab into his collar. “Your harp playing is lovely, and your singing is just as exquisite. I cannot see why anyone would dislike you.”

“Is that the _ only _ reason you like him?” Curse Jeonghan for always butting into his conversations, curse him for knowing Seungcheol’s heart too well, having grown up next to it.

And curse Jisoo too, for smirking at him, then walking and standing next to Jeonghan, and though they looked wildly different, Jeonghan with his pristine outfit, long, red-brown hair, and somewhat fair skin, Jisoo with his well-soaked clothes, exotic piercings, and honey-gold complexion, they still shared the same knowing, cat-like smirk that always managed to set Seungcheol on edge, two very different sides of the same coin.

“I mean...I suppose I find you quite the interesting person to talk to, as well,” he offered warily, and the pair leaned a little closer, as though they were snakes about to strike.

“And?” Jeonghan prompted, looking horribly smug.

“And...the way you sing is one of my favorite things,” he continued. Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, clearly wanting him to say more. Seungcheol cursed him inwardly.

“...And you look quite beautiful too,” he finally muttered under his breath, but judging by the way Jeonghan and Jisoo shared a smirk, they had caught his whispered confession.

“I’m touched, Seungcheol, really, I am,” Jisoo laughed, but there was a hint of sincerity in his eyes, a surprised affection that made Seungcheol feel a bit more hopeful. He still hadn’t answered Seungcheol’s initial request, but that was ok; he’d probably sprung it on the harper far too quickly for him to think about it.

“As for your offer...give me two days to think about it. I have to make sure my family accepts, otherwise no good will come of you asking. They would remain still if a sandstorm came and blew down our house,” Jisoo chuckled, looking thoughtful, and Seungcheol brightened. That meant he was at least considering it, and that meant Seungcheol was excited.

* * *

“Say, if I were to find a private entertainer whose services I enjoyed, would you allow me to let them stay in the castle?” Seungcheol asked that night when he and his family were having dinner. 

His mother blinked at him. “What kind of entertainer are you thinking of?”

“The harper that I told you of. I think he hails from the deserts over the mountains.” He gave a little shrug, trying not to seem too eager. “He plays wonderfully, and he seems to be good company. Jeonghan is wonderful, but I do find myself lonely sometimes when he is gone.”

“From over the mountains? That’s quite a ways away,” his father hummed.

“He told me it’s for his mother’s lungs. The sea air refreshes her,” he explained, and they nodded slowly.

“Well, I suppose that might be alright, if you let us meet him. Ever since the grand pianist got the flu a few days ago these halls have been quiet,” his mother sighed, and Seungcheol couldn’t help the way he lit up. Maybe, just maybe, he could have Jisoo by his side.

* * *

The next day, it rained again, though less intensely, but Jisoo did not show up with his harp. Although Seungcheol was sad, he left it be, since the pretty harper was probably still thinking about it.

He really, really hoped Jisoo would say yes. If he didn’t, then Seungcheol would live with it. But still, two days later, he practically sprinted down to the square, straining his ears to hear any note of the sounds of harp music or lovely singing.

He heard neither, and assumed the worst. What if Jisoo had simply left town to avoid answering his question? That didn’t seem likely, but he couldn’t help but feel a little apprehensive.

Relief and wariness filled his heart in equal measure when he spotted a familiar figure clad in a deep green-blue, sitting on the steps, his harp by his side, sitting unplayed. Seungcheol walked over, offering a smile and a shy wave, and Jisoo stood to nod to him, giving a small smile of his own.

“I have thought a lot about your offer, and told my family of it,” Jisoo began, and Seungcheol nodded for him to continue. Jisoo paused, almost as if for effect, then gave Seungcheol a soft, reassuring smile. “And they agreed, on two conditions. One, that they be allowed to stay with me. I want to keep an eye on my mother, and two, I get to come down to the square to play whenever I want.”

“Anything you ask for is yours,” Seungcheol breathed, feeling his knees go a little weak. Jisoo agreed to stay with him.

“Anything?” Jisoo prompted, looking curious, and Seungcheol nodded before he could think about it. Jisoo smiled, an almost predatory expression on his kitten-esque face. “Then I have one more condition.”

“Anything,” Seungcheol said again, and Jisoo leaned towards him, smile sharpening, eyes narrowing.

“Let me teach you how to dance in the rain, your highness.”

**Author's Note:**

> damn even the JeongCheol tag is dry I gotta water that soon  
I will return with more crumbs


End file.
